Nagi wasn't fast enough. Usually, that was ok. Usually it came down to perspective; Nagi couldn't move faster, but he could slow everything else around him down. Tonight, visibility was low. Tonight, the blare of sirens made it impossible to hear anything else. It frustrated Crawford to no end that his teammates were limited to their senses at a singular point in time.

Weiss was going to strike soon. Nagi wasn't going to be fast enough. Crawford had foreseen it, and this was the preferable situation. Such was life.

"We will run on my count," Crawford told him, looking down at his watch.

"Hai," Nagi said.

"3…"

The disc popped out, and Nagi grabbed it, crushing the now-useless computer with his gift.

"2..."

The power flicked off, plunging the building into complete darkness: perfect timing, as always. Crawford smirked.

"1."

Crawford grabbed Nagi's wrist and yanked him into the depths of the darkness. Nagi didn't like being touched, but he didn't protest. He wouldn't be able to navigate the room without Crawford's guidance; he couldn't See except the darkness in front of his eyes. Crawford pulled them out of the office and out into the hall. Weiss was waiting here, in the shadows. The chase would begin soon.

Two doors down on the right was the stairwell. Crawford gripped Nagi's wrist tighter and ran as fast as the slow child allowed. It was beginning. In his mind's eye he could see Abyssinian and Balinese burst out from their hiding place. Nagi was already out of breath.

"Doors," Crawford said, and the doors to the stairwell crashed open with Nagi's gift. Crawford didn't slow on his way down the stairs, but when Nagi slammed the door shut in Balinese's face, he stopped for a second to hoist Nagi up over his shoulder.

Nagi grunted with surprise: "I-", but he swallowed his protest. Nagi hated this, Crawford knew, but even with a person over his shoulder Crawford was faster than Nagi.

"Let go of the door," Crawford said as he leapt down the stairs. He knew Nagi must've been confused by the request, but the boy followed his orders without question. They had enough of a lead for now and Crawford kept a good pace.

They were three flights down when they heard Siberian and Bombay catch up for the chase. Things changed now that Bombay was here, the only member of Weiss decent at a distance weapon. "Get the emergency lights," Crawford said, and Nagi let his gift flick up the spiral of the stairs to turn off the lights.

"On my call," Crawford panted, "You will put up a force field above us for two counts and bring it down again."

That was too odd for Nagi to let go. "I can hold it the whole time," he said, still avoiding a direct question.

"Now," Crawford said, and Nagi put up an invisible barrier in enough time to hear a dart sink into it and stop mid-air. "You need to save your energy," he said, by way of explanation.

So they continued, silence only broken by Crawford's occasional order for shielding. Finally, they reached the end of the stairwell. It led to a door that Crawford knew would be locked. Instead he whipped around and ducked underneath the stairs. Another, secret door was nestled neatly there, locked as well. Nagi slipped off Crawford as he was hunched over.

"Door," Crawford breathed, quietly. Nagi's gift crumpled the door into a metal ball, and Crawford pushed him through the opening. When they were both through, Crawford scooped Nagi into his arms and began running through the darkened tunnel.

He was almost there when he heard Weiss' footsteps echoing behind them. He knew it would happen, yet his stomach twanged in anticipation. The tunnel ended abruptly at a ledge. Without warning, Crawford threw Nagi into the hole.

"Ah," Nagi grunted, getting to his feet and looking at the ground. "Is this…?"

Light blared from the right, painting half of his body gold and white.

"Crawford!" Nagi's deep blue eyes were wide and bore into his own. A horn blared: too loud, too close.

Crawford dealt with fear on a daily basis, but as much as he hated to admit it, seeing fear in Nagi's eyes made his skin crawl. He wanted to reach down and pull the boy back out again.

"Make it go around you!" he shouted instead.

Nagi didn't have time to respond, but turned towards the light, determination hardening his features. The last Crawford saw of him was the ripple of brown hair and then the subway filled his vision. The clacking over the tracks drowned out Weiss's footsteps.

Crawford slid down the slimy tunnel wall to sit, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. This is how the story ended: Nagi would let the particles of the subway seamlessly stretch around him, Schuldig would be on board waiting to catch him and wipe the minds of the witnesses, and they would ride home, disc in tow. It would drain Nagi to do such rapid manipulation on the molecular level, but he could do it. Crawford let a smile creep onto his face. The boy was powerful. Soon, he'd be able to teleport and being slow would be as irrelevant as ever.

Crawford's smile slipped off his face when he felt four blades prick his neck. Siberian, the fastest of Weiss, had arrived, and was leering over him. The time had come.

"Hello, Siberian," he said calmly, holding his palms out to show he was unarmed.

"Don't move," the other assassin hissed, sweat dripping down his chin. His night-vision goggles glinted eerily in the flickering light from the subway.

They remained motionless until it had passed, and Crawford's eyes flicked to the tracks, looking for a smear of blood he knew wouldn't be there.

Footsteps clattered to a stop as the rest of Weiss arrived. Crawford didn't need Schuldig's power to tell they didn't know what to make of his passive stance.

"You're outnumbered, Schwarz," Balinese finally spat out, using his famed power of deduction. Crawford refused to roll his eyes.

"Drop your weapons," Bombay said, a little more intelligently.

"I have none," Crawford said, "Frisk me if you like."

They murmured to themselves, before Balinese stepped forward, pulling out a length of wire. "Hands out, Schwarz; we're binding you."

And so Crawford found his cheek against the wet stone wall and his hands wound tightly behind his back. Abyssinian held a sword to his neck as Siberian roughly patted him down.

"Spread your legs," Siberian said gruffly.

Crawford complied with dread. "Please be-," he started, hoping the future was not set in stone, "shit!" he ended involuntarily as Siberian was not at all gentle between his legs. At his wince, Abyssinian nicked his neck in warning.

Balinese couldn't hold in a snicker. Because the man was an adult and testicles were still funny. Idiot.

"He doesn't have anything," Siberian confirmed, sitting back on his heels and flipping open Crawford's wallet to examine the contents.

"What about the CD?" Bombay asked.

"Negative."

"Well then," Bombay sighed, "Now what?"

"I'll kill him," Abyssinian offered.

"We could tie his legs up and leave him on the tracks," Siberian said absently, tucking Crawford's money into his pocket, "Let the fates decide. That's his thing, right?"

"Nn," Bombay said, shaking his head, "We should bring him in to Manx and see what she says."

The others agreed, and they turned towards him, trying to figure out the logistics. Crawford closed his eyes and waited for the blunt end of Abyssinian's sword.

He woke up in a white room: white walls, white ceiling, white linoleum floor.

This was wrong.

Of course, Crawford's gift wasn't a perfect thing. The world was full of possibilities that were ever shifting.

Crawford struggled to his feet; his hands were still bound. The room was completely bare. The door was classic jail-door iron bars, plastered in a coat of cheap white paint.

He went up to the door and peered out. There was a lounge with a few soft chairs and couches scattered around an otherwise bland room. To the far left he could see an open doorway that appeared to lead to a kitchen. Almost directly across from him, a little to the left, was a stairway leading up. His cell had no windows. He wondered if he was underground. That shouldn't be too hard to See, he noted, but at a later time. His head was killing him.

Belatedly he noticed Balinese snoozing on a couch. Crawford coughed loudly, and Balinese sat up lightning fast, head whipping towards him. Crawford rested his chin on the cross bar of the door, pretending to be obscenely bored.

"Bathroom?" he asked.

Balinese chose to ignore him, but strode out of the room. Crawford Saw that he was going to fetch Manx and the rest of Weiss.

They all clomped downstairs less than a minute later, Manx at the head of the pack.

"Schwarz," she said, clipping over to him in red high heels, "Glad to see you're up,"

"Thank you, Ms. Manx. Interesting accommodations; I presume headquarters are out of commission?"

Manx thought she hid her surprise in a smirk. "Who says this isn't our headquarters?"

Crawford smiled politely, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Perhaps you forgot I am Gifted? And as much we all would like for Kritiker to amount to this," he gestured with a nod of his head to the dilapidated sitting room, "I suspect reality isn't so sweet."

Manx narrowed her eyes and said nothing. Weiss shifted uncomfortably behind her.

After a few beats of silence and his head still pounding, Crawford was losing his patience. "Well, Ms. Manx, I'm ready to talk business when you are."

Manx didn't like that he was guiding the conversation, but it served her right. She slid a sharp red nail under his chin, "How about we get you undressed, then?"

She was trying re-instate her authority by making him uncomfortable. Crawford gave her credit for trying. "You'll do the honors, I hope?" he whispered, meeting her eyes easily. Two could play at this game.

Manx rolled her eyes and took a step back. "Don't flatter yourself. Siberian? Abyssinian?"

The two assassins came forward and Crawford noted the gray lump of cloth balled up in Siberian's fist. Abyssinian twirled a pair of handcuffs from his effeminate fingers, katana weighing down his hip.

"Put your back against the door," the redheaded man ordered, and Crawford complied, pressing his shoulder blades against the vertical bars. He swallowed a shiver when he heard the man draw his sword, but there was only a hand at his wrists and a snap as the wire binding him was cut. Crawford debating whipping around and grabbing the man's neck through the bars just because he could, but he knew ultimately it wouldn't lead to anything, at least not with the rest of Weiss there. He settled for slowly turning to face the men, careful to keep his face impassive.

Siberian dangled his new uniform at him an arm's length away from the door. He wasn't as dumb as he looked, that one. Crawford had to stretch a hand out as far as he could through the bars to grab the pile with his fingertips. Pulling the cloth into the cell, he discovered they were a plain grey pair of sweatpants and a matching hooded sweatshirt. "Get dressed," Siberian said, as if he hadn't figured that part out.

Five pairs of eyes stared at him intently. Surely this was a waste of human resources. There wasn't much he could do from inside of his cage. He loosened his tie and met their eyes with a smirk. "I've never put on a show in quite this setting before. Sure the bars are kinky, but the lighting and atmosphere could use a little work, huh?" They couldn't leave now, not when he had been so deliberately antagonistic, but Bombay couldn't hide his deep blush, and the other four looked distinctly uncomfortable. Brad's smile was genuine this time and he licked his lips as he started to unbutton his shirt.

That was enough for Manx. "I've got better things to do," she huffed, heels clicking as she stalked away.

"Yeah, me too!" Bombay said, a little too obviously. There was a beat of silence in which the boy seemed to realize this, and he grabbed Abyssinian's arm. "I'd like to talk with you about that other project before it gets too late."

"Hn." Abyssinian hummed in nonchalance. "Let's go, then." He pressed the handcuffs he had been playing with into Balinese's hand.

And then there were two. Balinese fake-smiled and waggled his eyebrows. I'm not afraid of you, his eyes said. Siberian stared at Crawford with steely determination, refusing to be intimidated. "Hurry up, Schwarz. We had hoped you wouldn't need encouragement, but you will be helped if necessary." The threat was clear enough in his tone, but Crawford heard the hiss of his bugnuks and knew they had been drawn.

Way to ruin the moment, Siberian- but he wouldn't be intimidated. Crawford was already Seeing the futures guide him in the right direction. He stepped right up close to his barred door and continued his slow, sensual strip of his upper half. Not too dramatic; he didn't need any bugnuks involved. Just enough to annoy them.

"Step back and turn around," Balinese said, barring his teeth, "We have no interest in your seeing your dick."

"Speak for yourself," Crawford said, shooting Siberian a quick glance. He was already out of reach and laughing by the time Siberian reacted, be-clawed arms waving through the bars.

Crawford turned away to finish the last button on his shirt and sat down on the floor to untie his shoes. Perfect. Old tricks from Rosenkruez, actually. Annoy, don't incite. Distract, don't bring attention to yourself. It was a delicate balance, and didn't last long, but it was the closest thing to privacy he'd get. While they were stewing over his words from a minute ago, they wouldn't notice the subtle motions he took to move his watch from his wrist to his ankle and tuck it under his sock. He was less worried about them noticing a lumpy sock in the pants exchange; they'd be too distracted by his ass.

He finished by peeling off his socks to leave his watch safely hidden under the elastic-banded cuffs of his new sweatpants. Almost too easy. Crawford gathered up his old clothes and shoved them through the bars. Siberian and Balinese didn't take them immediately so he let them drop to the floor.

"All set?" he asked politely.

Balinese snorted, "Not so fast, Schwarz. We got another present for you." He jangled the handcuffs against his cell door, "Come and get it."

Another ill-thought-out plan by Weiss. Crawford only complied because he could See the alternative, which involved a full on attack by all four of Weiss, resulting not only in more injury to his person, but also the discovery of his hidden watch. It was awkward to put his hands through the same gap between bars, but Balinese made quick work. Just as Crawford was about to pull away, Balinese grabbed his wrist again and yanked his arms through the bars. Crawford glared; that was definitely going to leave bruises.

"Sorry, Schwarz, but you can't have those," Balinese said, nodding at his glasses.

Siberian leaned in too close and snagged Crawford's glasses with a mocking gentleness. The urge to head-butt him was incredible. When he was released by Weiss, they all took a step away from the door.

"Bathroom?" he asked after a moment of staring.

Siberian let out an aggravated sound and grabbed Balinese by the elbow. "Let's get out of here; I'm sick of having to look at that freak." They left without another glance, out and up the stairs. For the first time, Crawford was left alone in his new home.

Luckily he didn't actually have to use the bathroom.

Yet.